


Like They Always Did

by holy_wow



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blue Lions Route, Brief mentions of other characters - Freeform, Getting Together, M/M, No Beta, Post Time Skip, Vague Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 17:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy_wow/pseuds/holy_wow
Summary: Moments between Felix and Sylvain.





	Like They Always Did

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect to like either of these two as much as I do, especially Sylvain. And then that ending credit with them? Hit me like a train it did. I've had this story on my comp for weeks and am going to share it before I let it be forgotten.

Felix glanced up from cleaning the training area, eyes narrowing as he spotted his father. Since he’d come back home their relationship hadn’t exactly improved. Besides, since the Boar Prince had been imprisoned and supposedly executed, there hadn’t exactly been a whole lot of time for them to sit down and work through their issues, assuming they even would have. Felix personally wouldn’t have put any coin on it, but he wasn’t a gambling man by nature. “I’m not sure what happened at that monastery,” Rodrigue starts, not one to start with benign greetings with his volatile son, “but your talented Professor must have really gotten through to Sylvain, hm?”

That caught Felix’s attention. He honestly resented how much it did, eyes falling to the report Rodrigue carried. “What are you getting on about, old man?” He didn’t really have to ask, but part of him was panicking over Sylvain, the first and last line of defense to the north. Sylvain, on the surface, hadn’t changed, something Felix was guilty to admit made him feel relieved. It meant most people, most women especially, would overlook him. But Professor hadn’t overlooked Sylvain, had actually seen through his little spiteful act of rebellion. 

And somehow, something clicked for the ginger. It was infuriating, especially to the likes of Annette, but for all his avoidance of training or hard work he had flourished. But, really, that’s how it always was for Sylvain. He had a knack of making things look easy, of never sweating over anything. Ingrid and Dimitri had lamented, before, on what Sylvain could have been if he hadn’t resented his entire life, resented Crests, and applied himself. If Sylvain had at least half the can-do attitude of Annette. Felix, greedy and selfish, was thankful. Sylvain stayed right where he was and it made him so much easier for Felix to find. 

“The boy has repelled another attack from the Imperial traitors,” Rodrigue said, glancing at the report. His eyes were tired, dark bags slowly appearing under them. Leading what was left of the loyalists to the Kingdom was starting to finally show. Felix ignored that and reached for the report with a snap of his hand. As the heir he was privvy to most of the reports, and assumed this one as well if his father brought it. “The Margrave is quite proud of Sylvain. Minimal casualties. Us old warriors have been spoiled with how you young folk of stepped up. It’s going to be difficult once you all take your trip back to the monastery in a few months.”

Felix frowned, scanning the report and half listening to Rodrigue. Minimal casualties and Sylvain had returned on his own- which did not mean Sylvain wasn’t injured but at least it wasn’t life threatening if he was. That would have been in the report. He glanced up, hating the knowing look in his father’s eyes as he watched. “Well, you’re the lot letting us take the trip.” That said, Felix can’t imagine listening to his father if he had tried to deny. Not without good reason. Not without the Imperial army right there ready to overrun them.

Rodrigue chuckled, shaking his head knowingly. “Too true. We have no right to complain. But it makes this old man happy, to see the children flourishing. And, to know the man traveing with my son will be competent. “

Felix rolled his eyes, hard, again, turning his back to his father. There was a scoff in his voice as he snapped. “Please, don’t imply Sylvain won’t be anything but a nuisance.”

Rodrigue chuckled. “Careful, son. You shouldn’t take Sylvain for granted. I know how he’s put up with you, for years, and your moods. Nothing says he has to, though.”

Felix bristled, nearly snarling at his father. “You’re right! Nothing says he has to, or that I want him to. And if you don’t have anything worth saying, you should leave. You’re a busy man, Father- as am I.”

Rodrigue sighed, shaking his head. “Of course. Enjoy your training, Felix. I’ll see you later at the council.”

Felix busied himself with the sword rack until the sound of the door clicking shut made his shoulders drop. He glanced at his hand, opening and closing his fist before giving another scoff and reached for his sword. He had training to do.

–

Felix smiled as he he heard the tell-tale sounds of Sylvain’s boots on the stone tiles as he chased after the swordsman. It was far too similar to their time as students, as children. Even when they were small, a time Felix tries to forget what with all the spoiled tears he spilled, Sylvain would chase after a tantrum throwing Felix with an exasperated smile and a desperate call. He twitched his head, swinging his bangs out of his eyes, making his way towards the town so he could have the meal with Sylvain.

The ginger easily appeared beside him, long legs making it easier for him than was fair. He gave an airy chuckle, slowing his gait and stretching his arms behind his head to give off that usual nonchalant swagger he was known for. “Honestly, Felix, you’re so mean, making me run.”

Felix rolled his eyes, glancing over at Sylvain from the corner of his eyes. “Stop being dramatic.”

“If that’s what makes you feel better about it,” Sylvain huffed, but still with that good natured smiled. “Should be having you treat me at this point, for all the stress on my heart.”

“Ugh- if it’ll make you stop complaining.”

Sylvain laughed again, shaking his head and dropping his arms to hook at his belt. “So, what are we going to get? You feel like something special?”

“We’re at war, going to the town that is still in the process of being rebuilt. Special is not what I’d call anything here.”

“Well, it’s not exactly gonna be the nobles haunt of the capital but that hardly means it can’t be good. C’mon, what are you feeling? Savory? Some spice? Hm?” He leaned over, shoulder bumping with Felix who stumbled. The height and size difference between them was something that kept Felix up at night, but also Felix was absolutely never ever going to admit that. Instead he grumbled, pushing Sylvain away. He ignored the way his skin warmed, tingled almost, from the touch. Felix was smart enough to realize he was probably touch starved, let alone the feelings Sylvain always brought with him, but really that didn’t make him special. Most of his friends were probably touch starved since there wasn’t enough of Mercedes to go around and hug them all.

“You no doubt have a better idea than I do what’s out here. Pick.”

“Well then I’ll have to pick a good place, huh?”

“Something good has to come from all your annoying dalliances after so long of us dealing with your bruised cheeks and feelings.”

“Oof- alright. C’mon, Felix.” Sylvain dropped his arm across Felix’s shoulders, tugging him back closer and leading him down the street. “I’ve got just the place in mind.”

Felix kept his usual frown in place, arms crossed as he allowed Sylvain to keep his arm there, guiding him along the streets and alleys. Paranoid, Felix couldn’t help but watch everybody as they passed, scanning the corners and cubbies for anybody dangerous. So it was easy to notice the people as they hurried out of their way. Some people waved to Sylvain, greetings and fans as they walked. Really, as long as you didn’t have an eligible daughter, Sylvain was charming and heroic almost. He leads his way around, obviously knowing exactly where he was going.

They came to a hole in the wall shop, obviously barely put together and making do in the rebuilding town. But there are some lovely little tables outside in what is a make shift garden in the back and Sylvain takes them there, flopping down in a chair with a flourish, and grins. “You’ll like this place,” he says.

Felix believed him, if only because he did trust Sylvain. Besides, it seemed like a decent place. They were outside, the air a little warmer, the sounds of the town’s bustle softer here. It wasn’t the prettiest, but it was nice and if the food was decent he’d take it. Sylvain did have some standards, at least. The swordsman shook his hair out of his eyes, glancing over at the waitress as she came over with a big smile and rosy cheeks towards Sylvain. Of course. Felix rolled his eyes, scowling heavily when Sylvain smiled back at her. 

The ginger glanced over, of course noticing, and Felix tried not to feel special that he didn’t dawdle to flirt as he ordered their food. Felix watched the waitress titter and flutter her eyelashes before walking away. A snide voice in his head as saying it was Felix that was sitting at the table with Sylvain, not her. And it was Felix who had Sylvain’s attention. The swordsman shook his head, frowning. Sylvain, one arm over the back of his chair, toying with the napkin. “Thanks for coming with me, Felix,” he said, glancing up from under his lashes.

Felix pretended his heart didn’t stutter. He had a lot of practice with that. “Whatever. I need to eat. Doesn’t matter where.”

Sylvain chuckled, going back to folding the napkin. “True. Still, doesn’t mean it had to be with me. I miss hanging out with you. Glad we can, still, is all.”

Felix frowned. “As if you’d let me get away,” he said.

Sylvain smiled there, as well. “True. I’ve gotten pretty good at chasing you down, huh?”

–

It proved unnecessarily true- Sylvain was good at chasing Felix down. The swordsman had been surrounded, his soldiers and him having to struggle to keep themselves afloat in the mass. Felix was a master at the sword, at black magic, but that didn’t change that he had the smallest force in the army. He was a strike force, the point of the sword. They were good, even surrounded and being pushed, his soldiers had held on, taking more than the enemy did. But they were getting tired and in a war of attrition the Empire was always going to win, willing to just throw their giant numbers of soldiers at a problem.

And then, heroic as ever, Sylvain led his cavalry from the back and thru the mass of enemies. Felix had been so relieved. Sylvain always made him feel safe. And his cavalry had sent the enemy into disarray. They were going to make it out, Felix had thought, turning back to making sure Sylvain’s heroic charge hadn’t been in vain. He wouldn’t hear the end of it, honestly. By the end of it he was tired, arms burning and one sword broken, but he was fine. Nothing a bit of spit and bandage wouldn’t take care of. Or, realistically, magic as Mercedes and Marianne fretted over the army.

Felix mentally took tally of his soldiers and the dead until his eyes fell on the riderless horse. Suddenly he was chocking on his heart, quickly dancing across the battlefield to the black steed. He reached for the reins, catching sight of the boot in the stirrup. He’d followed it, shaking as he saw Sylvain being dragged by his horse. With quick work he got the boot out of the stirrup and started yelling for the soldiers to come help him. Eventually they were all able to stumble their way back, the soldiers helping him get Sylvain to the healer with the rest that needed it.

Felix had been kicked out, of course. His scrapes and bruises minor enough that he was fixed up in the non-magical way. He was then pushed aside to get his jobs done while he waited to see who’d survive and who wouldn’t. Which he did not need to think about and instead focused on his duties, and then his training. At least until one of the priests found him, told him Sylvain was good enough for a visit. Felix didn’t run but it was a close thing. Thankfully his face was easy to compose and the rest of him could catch up by the time it took to get to Sylvain’s room. He pushed his bangs out of his face again and entered and he wasn’t sure what his plan really was, a hug was somewhere there, just that Sylvain ruined it.

Something of Sylvain’s flippant attitude, the way he brushed off his wounds and the danger he faced, it made Felix want to cry. It wasn’t the same of everybody else, all the other idiots around him that glorified death- idolized it like it was some sort of goal to aspire to! No, Sylvain didn’t have any of that. It was a disregard for himself that was equally damning and infuriating. A part of Felix that sounds a lot like when he was small, stumbling after an older Sylvain who had a growth spurt early and his legs far too long even then, says in a watery voice “You’re not supposed to die- I’m not supposed to have to figure out how to live without you. You can’t throw your life away carelessly!”

Felix doesn’t say that, of course. But the way Sylvain’s eyes soften, the way his mouth quirks up gently, Felix thinks maybe he heard it anyway. The tall ginger reaches out, as if he’s going to pull Felix into a hug or just rest a hand on his shoulder, but then he thinks better. Felix isn’t sure what exactly is on his face that dissuaded Sylvain. But he turns and stomps out of the room anyway before he can betray himself. It’s easier knowing that Sylvain is fine enough. He’ll probably be out on his horse in no time at all, ready to hold the line again.

And it was true. Sylvain appeared in the training room another two days, stretching his arms over his head and strutting in. The others had cheered, greeting him with waves and challenges. Felix had scoffed, and yet giving a nod of acknowledgment. It seemed, then, that things went back to normal. And part of Felix resented it. They trained, Sylvain went out for tea and naps, they defended their territory, they whined and complained at each other, and for a moment Felix was content.

Then his father died. The Professor could barely look him in the eyes afterwards, muttering an apology, looking sadder than Felix had seen before. Felix hadn’t known what to say, wasn’t sure why she looked so guilty. He had let her leave, let her go to mourn. Or, more likely, make sure the boar prince was managing. Felix only hoped Dimiri would figure it out. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel if his father’s death was just another notch in his prince’s trauma and revenge plot.

The rain had started, cold and insistent. It kept Felix from the training room, made him feel restless. Too much energy and nothing to do with it. It felt like running in place as he stared out at the rain. The others left him to his sadness, which them leaving him alone wasn’t unusual. He wasn’t approachable and it was easy to figure out why they thought he wanted to be alone. Felix didn’t begrudge them. Especially when, as soon as he started to feel his chest clenching, breathing becoming shaky, he heard the telltale sound of boots approaching of somebody with long legs and then a soft, “Hey, Felix.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Sylvain, looking like how Felix felt. It was, the swordsman realized, Sylvain’s first tragedy. His relation to the Tragedy of Duscur was all second hand. It was him watching his friends accumulate trauma and sadness. He had no real loss to the attack. This war as well, he hadn’t lost that many people. The Professor was good at keeping them alive. Felix swallowed, not sure what to say to that. But it was alright, Sylvain was good about having words. “Was thinking maybe now would be a good time for the hug?”

Felix licked his dry lips, giving a short, sharp nod. That was all it took for Sylvain to take the two steps forward and pull Felix close for a hug. The swordsman all but collapsed against him, weakly wrapping his arms around him and hiding his face in his neck. “I hated him. I did.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone now, too.” Sylvain made a humming sound of agreement, the two of them starting to rock. “I’m not sad for him. He wouldn’t have regrets. But-”

“We still lost something- somebody. I get it.” He pressed his lips to the top of Felix’s head, continuing to softly rock them to the sound of the rain outside. Felix nodded, pressing closer to the warmth of Sylvain, eyes draw but he couldn’t not cling to Sylvain in the moment. Maybe one day he’d be able to come to terms with what he really was feeling for his father. Maybe, one day, he’d be able to think back on their time fondly. He hoped so. His father was a good man, a good noble if there could be, and even if they rarely saw eye to eye over the last nine years, Rodrigue hadn’t been a horrible father. Felix thought, maybe, he should be crying.

Sylvain held him for who knew how long long. Neither were keeping track, the rain just worsening as they mourned quietly together. But, eventually, he did pull back, just enough. “It’s gonna be a chilly night,” he said, glancing over Felix’s head to the rain. “C’mon- I’ll get you some warm tea and we won’t stand next to a cold window.”

Felix nodded, keeping hold of Sylvain’s sleeve as the taller of them led the way towards his room. They barely saw anybody on the way, not that Felix cared. And, true to his word, Sylvain made a warm cup of tea and got Felix on his bed with a blanket wrapped around them. Except, Felix found himself pouting over that. “Still cold,” he muttered, glancing up from his cup of tea. Sylvain, having pulled his own chair over, blinked in confusion, making Felix huff. “And you’re going to be cold. Don’t want to listen to you complain, either.” He rolled his shoulder, catching the blanket, and it clicked for Sylvain.

“Course.” He shuffled over, and it took some time as they got situated, but Felix was pressed with his back to Sylvain’s chest, Sylvain’s thighs on either side of him and the blanket wrapped around. And there’s where Felix stayed, quietly agreeing to be spoiled for the night. It was a small bed to share for two adult soldiers, but they made do, Sylvain happily keeping his arms secure around Felix, who selfishly took all the comfort Sylvain was willing to give.

–

Felix sighed, fighting back his hair. It kept falling out of his ponytail, too smooth and far to silky. He’d taken after his mother in that way, never getting the thick waves of his father, which was a nuisance. He’d watched Rodrigue pin up his entire mass of hair with a pencil. The swordsman frowned at his thoughts, giving up with the current ponytail and yanking out the band. Around him the people continued to bustle around from where he sat perched on a wall. He watched them all, dragging his hands through his bangs as they hustled.

They’d won the war and the Empire was no more. Dimitri was going to be king of the entire country and was taking the heavy responsibility fairly well. Felix had also seen the to-be Boar King fiddling with a ring, with pretty green stones, so perhaps he was distracted from thinking about being king. Felix had no doubt on who Dimitri was going to try to give the ring to, and was pretty sure it was going to be a happy answer. He was happy for them, and for the country. It’d be good, happy news whenever they were ready to tell the people.

So lost in his thoughts, watching people get ready for all the post-war celebrations and coronations, Felix missed the telltale sounds of Sylvain approaching. He had a familiar gait and, more importantly, was loud. He usually approached with that heavy swagger and a cheerful greeting. Felix hated how he startled and turned with a glare at Sylvain, who had the gall to laugh at him and still approach. “Nearly fell off the wall there, Felix,” he teased. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Felix snapped back. The last battle had been taxing. Stressful. And Sylvain had, eventually succumbed. They had to drag him and what soldiers of his had a chance of survival. His horse hadn’t made it, something that had a bleeding out and delirious Sylvain crying- promising he could still fight without his beloved steed if they’d just help him stand up. It had been a horrible sight, everybody slowly falling all around them. Felix, as well, eventually had to fall back, barely capable after the blast from a mage to provide the others cover as they tried to survive. Watching the backs of the Professor and Dimitri push forward towards the thing the Emperor had become.

“That depends entirely on who you’re asking. And since you’re asking me, the answer is, no, I shouldn’t be. No more than you. You didn’t walk out pristine either.” Felix rolled his eyes, flipping at his hair to keep it out of his eyes. He had a scar, but his innards hadn’t tried to become outards. “Don’t fret so much. Mercie’s magic is better than that. It’s not gonna reopen by taking a stroll.”

“I’m not going to cover for you when she shows up spitting mad,” Felix groused, eyes narrowed in a threat. 

“Turn around and let me put your hair up- then try that again,” Sylvain leaned his hip against the side of the wall and gestured with one hand as the other reached for the band.

“I can do it,” the swordsman snapped and definitely not pouting.

“I know. But I’d like to.” Sylvain grinned, all genuine charm that made Felix’s heart do a little stutter. So he twisted, swinging his legs over the wall so his back was to Sylvain. Horribly, the ginger was tall enough that sitting on the wall didn’t put him out of reach. Strong, tall, confident, heroic, and stupidly willing to fight for his friends. Part of Felix was happy his friend was seen in a better light- a more true light now-a-days. People shouldn’t overlook his flaws, but Sylvain was a good man and he deserved to have that be seen. The other part of Felix was tired of seeing even the likes of Dorothea being sweeter to Sylvain, let alone the people outside the army who only saw his shiny armor and heard of his title. “Thank you,” Sylvain said, almost sing song as he started running his hands through Felix’s silky hair.

“Whatever.”

“It’s been forever since I got to do your hair. Ingrid is going to be so jealous when I tell her,” he went on, continuing to pull his fingers through the hair, pulling up the strands. A ponytail didn’t actually take that long but Felix was sadly relaxing into the hands as his guard was dropping. “Can’t believe you got to keep your hair the entire war,” he mumbled, a smile in his voice. 

Felix snorted. “I’m going to have to get it cut before the coronation.” He was already tired imagining all the fuss he’d have to put up with. 

“How short are you planning?” Sylvain asked, actually sounding worried. He began pulling the band around the hair. “We can be twins!”

“You’re an idiot,” Felix muttered, even as he tried to keep from chuckling. “I probably won’t have too much of a choice, either.” The woes of being a noble. Especially one friend’s with the new king. He’d have a fantastic hair cutter and barely get a say in what they did to manage his hair for the coronation. 

“I’m sure you and your fierce stare can cow whatever hairdresser is brought in. I believe in you, Felix.”

The hair was done, pulling tight and mostly out of Felix’s face while completely off his neck, and Sylvain’s hands lingered just a moment before falling back. The swordsman shifted on the wall, turning that ‘fierce stare’ on his friend. “If you’re done,” he huffed.

“All done. You’re beautiful again.” Sylvain cooed, making Felix roll his eyes. “Hey, come with me for a bit.”

“What? Where? Why?”

“So suspicious.” Sylvain chuckled. “C’mon. You’re not even training.”

“I’m not allowed. Mercedes has set up a watch on the training grounds,” he groused, glaring in the direction of the grounds, which made Sylvain really laugh. “Fine. Let’s go.” He carefully hopped off and moved to follow. He couldn’t help as his eyes followed Sylvain. The red head’s broad shoulders and thick arms were often attention grabbing, but now Felix watched for the limp, any sign of discomfort as Sylvain walked. He was noticeably slower, his usual swagger diminished. But he didn’t seem in pain or struggling, though he was fairly good at hiding it when he wanted to not whine and get attention or coddling.

Sylvain filled the hair with idle chatter as they walked, Felix barely responding as he followed. They eventually reached where Sylvain wanted. It was just outside, a lovely view of the blue sky and clouds, grass and some rubble their company. Felix enjoyed the quiet of it and wasn’t so disconnected that he couldn’t appreciate that the view was lovely. But if Sylvain brought him out here for a picturesque sky, Felix was going to be peeved. He glanced over, Sylvain looking more tired that he should have, running a hand thru his hair and glancing off to the side. 

Felix put a hand on his sword hilt, deciding to be patient. At least for a moment. He stared at the clouds instead, knowing some people watched the sky for shapes. Made games of it. Felix had never been very good at it, even as a child. Not the most patient of children, or men. He heard Sylvain sigh, figured he’d start talking soon, and there was something beautiful about being right.

“So, I want you to know, I was going to have something better for this. But, I didn’t want- I wanted to make sure it was genuine.” That caught Felix’s attention, eyes widening as he stared at Sylvain. “I love you Felix.”

“Wha-”

“As kids, I couldn’t imagine living a day without you. And that hasn’t changed. We’ve grown, my love has grown, and I understand it better now. I wanted to tell you. I was too scared during the war. It was easier to… continue my insufferable, insatiable ways. But I promised myself, if we both survived, I’d be honest. I’d tell you.”

“You- you can’t just say it like that. I- you’re- how dare you.”

Sylvain actually laughed at that. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same. If you want to be friends still, or… well, please don’t say you don’t want to be friends-”

Felix reached forward, grabbing Sylvain’s coat and pulling him closer, Sylvain not struggling and shutting up with wide eyes. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he growled, the only warning Syvlain got before their mouths smashed together. Felix knew he wasn’t the best kisser. He had very limited experience in such things. His first kiss had actually been Dimitri, of all people, when they were so much younger. Both had watched their friends getting doe eyed and talks to love as Ingrid grew starry eyed around Glenn and Sylvain was already being introduced to possible girls his father hoped to engage him to, and in a fit of curiosity Felix and Dimitri had decided to see what the fuss was about. Needless to say, even after their awkward little peck, neither had understood and gone back to hunting for smooth rocks to throw at the water.

This was, thankfully, nothing like that. Possibly because Sylvain’s experience far exceeded a young Dimitri, or because this time Felix’s heart was beating so fast, as if it was a stampede against his ribcage. Sylvain’s lips were chapped but he was smiling. His hands slid up, one cupping at Felix’s jaw and the other wrapping around his waist. Felix kept his grip on Sylvain’s coat iron tight, unable to stop the little noises as Sylvain angled them for a deeper kiss.. They pulled back, Sylvain opening his eyes with a smile. “That was nice,” he said, quietly. “Wasn’t sure I’d get to kiss you.”

Felix wasn’t pouting when he frowned and that was the story he was going to stick with. “I’m mad at you.”

“Should I have brought flowers and dinner and put up a whole show for it?”

“No.” He couldn’t keep looking at Sylvain, dropping his eyes to the coat he still had a hold of. It would be badly wrinkled if Felix didn’t let go. And he was being honestly. Sylvain did things like wines and flowers and proclamations for his latest girl of the week. This was more honest. This was the real Sylvain, outside of the city under a clear sky, with the grass and wind. Felix wanted this Sylvain. He huffed, leaning into the hand that was still cupping at his jaw, thumb brushing along his cheekbone.

“Then what should I do? So you’re not mad at me?”

“Just… keep holding me. It’s a damn good start.” Felix closed his eyes, resting his head carefully on Sylvain’s good shoulder, the bigger man moving his arm so that both were hugging him. Felix slowly loosened his grip on the coat collar, sliding them down and around to hug Sylvain in return. The bigger man grunted, a bit, as his knuckles brushed along his ribs and waist, but they got comfortable quickly enough, fitting together like they always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully this brought a smile to your face. If it did, please let me know. Comments, even simple ones, are super appreciated! Thank you for reading!


End file.
